Call Me Captain
by NE8675309
Summary: Long before she chased the night skies in search of treasure, Dola was a young, adventurous woman. Having joined a crew of thieves, the hardened Dola discovers her true self amidst loss, pain, duty, questionable loyalties and betrayal; asking the age old question, is family only something you're born into or can you discover it along the way? A Castle in the Sky, Dola origin story.
1. Ch 1: The Dola Gang

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. Oh boy, it has been a long time since I posted. Sorry to disappoint anyone that might be looking for a Jeff & Annie fic. (Don't worry, I'm in the middle of writing one, lol.) This post is a long time coming. I remember watching Castle in the Sky years ago with my sister, it was one of my favorite movies and with that re-watch I realized that the most interesting character never really gets her own backstory. I love Dola so much. I started talking to my sister about how much I would love to read a story about her life when she was younger, especially after noticing a painting she had of her younger self in the background of her room. I pretty much came up with one right then and there, but because I was lazy I never got around to actually writing it. Years later (last year, in fact) I stuck my nose to the grindstone and wrote it. Only my sister has read this and it was at her behest that I started to think about posting it. Sorry for the long intro, just wanted to give you all a heads-up about what is essentially a Dola origin story. I hope you enjoy. As always, please R&R, it means a lot. Thanks so much - Nikki**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1: The Dola Gang  
_**

Terrence Dola and his wife Katherine both came from small, quiet families and had vowed from the day of their engagement that their children would grow and mature in a loud, large and loving family. Not too long after the honeymoon, the expanding of their family had already begun.

A big and dark-haired boy named Samuel was born first to the new family. Katherine didn't believe she would live through the labor and had to be convinced for months after that she wanted a large family, but it took her not much longer than a year to concede that the light of her life needed brothers or sisters. Terrence was overjoyed the moment Katherine told him that they were yet again, expecting. Samuel who once globbed on to his father's leg, quickly noticed the growing girth of his mother and never left her side. His father assured him several times, that his mother was not sick and would be just fine, but Samuel wasn't so sure and took it upon himself to protect his ever-widening mother, guessing that from the size of her she was in for a very bad stomachache, just like the ones he had also become accustomed to whenever he snuck his hand in the cookie jar as well.

Samuel felt a little silly once his mother's size returned and a brother was brought to his home. Kenneth was noticeably smaller than Samuel, even if he was still considered large for a newborn. The fair Ken cried all throughout the night and drove Samuel to wishing his mother had received a stomachache instead, but that soon changed. Samuel didn't like the name Kenneth, he thought Ken was too mature a nickname for a baby. Even Sam sounded softer on the tongue then Ken, but alas no one would listen to a 3 year old; even though it was clear he was wise beyond his years.

When Ken was old enough to walk on his own, Samuel would drag him along behind him, calling him Kenny even if his parents didn't agree. Samuel didn't like to share his hero father with a sibling, but always tried his best to be accommodating. In the morning Terrence would drink the coffee Katherine had made and grab his lunch while kissing his wife goodbye. He would always pick up both his sons and squeeze them close to his chest, kiss them on the forehead, tell them he loved them and made sure they knew that it was their job to protect their mother as the men of the house while he was gone. Samuel knew that his father was talking specifically to him, but Kenneth was always more preoccupied by how his father would wink at his mother every time he said that. Kenneth realized that he was talking to Samuel, but also was talking for Samuel, so he would smile, nod and giggle.

When Katherine became pregnant for the third time she knew immediately that it would be a boy. Half premonition and half dream, Katherine couldn't help but feel a very slight disappointment, as a daughter still eluded her. Henry was born right on time to an already situated family and the labor proved even more exhausting than Katherine had expected. She slept for hours after the birth and woke up only to the sound of her new son's cry for food. He fed and slept soundly on her chest. Even in her fatigue, Katherine felt the pride of her growing family and held little Henry as close to her chest as comfort would allow both of them.

Samuel, Kenneth and Henry got in a disturbing amount of trouble. At 7, 5 and 3 they were viewed as little adorable monsters of chaos. More times than she could count, Katherine had to remind her sons who the boss was and immediately they all would fall back into line. When Terrence would come home covered in dirt and day blind from working in the mines, he would lay beside his wife and thank her for making his home, his life and his heart full of her and their beautiful family. He couldn't deny that he wanted a little girl like Katherine to join his home, to ground her brothers and so he teased his wife. "Give me one more; a princess like you."

At this Katherine gave a hearty chuckle that vibrated through her chest and said, "I'll try to give you one like me, but she won't be a princess, she'll be a warrior." Katherine smiled and kissed her husband goodnight. She knew she was already pregnant, but she feared that this would not be like her last pregnancies and would most definitely be her last one.

* * *

The day Katherine went into labor, she sent a neighbor to bring her husband from the mines. Already the contractions were coming closer together and a familiar fatigue had filled her body. She kissed her sons and sent them away to her friend's house down the street, she couldn't have them witness her pain. Terrence came home just before their fourth child was born. He ran into the room, held his wife's hand, kissed her forehead and thanked her for everything she was doing and had already done. He couldn't articulate just how much he owed his wife and promised himself that he wouldn't ask her for another child. The paleness of her skin and weakness of her breath filled him with a fear that paralyzed him, but he shook it away because he knew that he needed to be strong for his wife.

This labor was quicker than the others and soon Katherine felt her strength fading. She didn't want to scare her husband with what she already knew, so she mustered her strength and kissed his hand telling him how much she loved him and how happy she was that their family was now complete. She began to hyperventilate, but pushed through and told Terrence what she wanted to name their daughter.

A breath, a name and a push later and their daughter was born screeching out into the world giving a battle cry befitting her name. Terrence held his little warrior daughter in his arms and kissed her tiny fingers, knowing that his family was complete. He turned to show Katherine what she had done, what gift she had brought to the world and saw the weak smile and the light fading from her eyes. Terrence called out Katherine's name knowing it was too late, but still clinging to the shroud of denial within his reach.

* * *

Terrence did his best to handle the loss of his wife, but found it impossible to shield the pain, especially from his children. Explaining to Samuel, Kenneth and Henry that their mother was gone was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Every fiber of his being blamed himself. Terrence felt the burden of the pressure he forced on Katherine to give him a daughter and even though he had her, the joy he should have felt was overwhelmed with the grief of losing the love of his life.

It took some time, but soon the boys cried less and found strength in their bond together. Samuel felt a need to keep the memory of his mother alive to his younger siblings. It was hard to look at his sister without feeling anger, but he was old enough to know that it wasn't her fault. When Terrence felt weary, Samuel would hold his sister in his arms and sing his mother's favorite song. Kenneth and Henry took Samuel's lead and borrowed from their brother's strength.

At night when the boys were fast asleep, Terrence would walk silently to the crib and rock his Mathilde gently, promising to do his best by her. "Mighty in battle," he chuckled to himself once. It was like Katherine to hold their daughter to such standards. The fair-haired little girl would squirm in her sleep and coo, but she never cried, not for too long, not too loud. Terrence never knew if it was her way of not creating any trouble or if it was an omen of the resilience she was sure to possess. Sometimes if he held her long enough, he felt like it would bring Katherine back to him, if just for a moment, to witness that they had been successful, she had given him a little one like her and he would keep her safe at all costs. Terrence knew that some of Katherine lived on in their children and he clung to them with everything.

* * *

Mathilde was no older than 4 years old the first time she came home with snot and tears, sniffling and sobbing incoherently. One of the boys in her class had pulled her pigtails and pushed her onto the ground. She was one of the weakest kids in the pre-school. Her brothers would stand beside her and she had depended on them for everything. Mathilde tugged on Samuel's shirt as he started to make dinner. Samuel scolded her for coming home by herself and not waiting for them to pick her up. Mathilde wiped the snot on her shirt and cried about how the mean boy, Mason made fun of her for being a crybaby. Kenneth and Henry came over and Ken wiped away her tears, while Henry just hugged her and told her she would be fine.

"Enough!" Samuel reprimanded. "Kenny, Henry, stop babying her." Kenneth and Henry stepped back shocked by the severity of Sam's voice. "What did you say he called you, Tilly?"

Mathilde sniffed twice and tried to clear her throat. "He called me a cr-cr-crybaby." She stuttered.

"And what are you doing?" Samuel said solidly.

"Crying…" She said meekly.

"And what does that make Mason?"

"Right?" Mathilde looked back at her oldest brother.

"Exactly; by crying and throwing a fit like this, you are proving Mason right. Do you want to prove Mason right? Do you want to be a crybaby?"

"No." Mathilde sniffed and lifted her head to look at her brother. "No, I don't want to be a crybaby."

"What do you want to be Tilly?" Samuel kneeled in front of her and sent his brothers a look that silenced any protest they might have of his scolding her.

"I want to be strong." She nodded. She reached out to him and hugged around his neck. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I forgot that I need to be strong."

Sam pulled away and wiped the tears from his sister's cheek. "It's okay."

"Sammy, what's an orphan?"

"An orphan?" He breathed, testing what she might say. "Why do you ask?" He looked to Ken and Henry. They all stayed silent and watched her uncertain expression.

"Because Mason also said that I was one bad day away from being one." Mathilde looked embarrassed as if she had said something wrong. "I don't get it. What does it mean?" She shuffled her eyes around the room to each brother. Suddenly she felt like crying all over again, scared by the looks on their faces.

Samuel quickly untied the apron that was wrapped around him and tossed it on the counter. "You said Mason, right?" Mathilde could only nod. "Henry, you stay here and finish dinner. Kenny, let's go." Kenneth was right on his brother's tail and they left the house without another word.

The two eldest brothers came home two hours later. They spoke very little as they scarfed down their cold dinners. As Samuel put Mathilde to bed later that night, he made her promise to always do her best to be strong. "Sammy, what happened with Mason?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Kenny and I did our part to scare him. He's not going to pick on you again, okay? That doesn't mean you can be weak, though. Mason said something that he shouldn't have, so Kenny and I had to make sure that he knew it wasn't okay. But Tilly, I need you to listen to me." Mathilde looked back at her brother as he pushed some of her pale strawberry blonde hair (that reminded him of his mother) out of her face. "No matter where you go or what you do in life, there are going to be mean people like Mason who want to hurt your feelings and who try to make you cry, but the most important thing is that you don't let them. If you cry, they win, okay Tilly? People like that should never get to win and you should never get to lose and that is why you need to be strong. That is why Kenny, Henry and I can't keep fighting for you. Do you understand?"

"What's an orphan, Sammy?" Mathilde felt a little nervous to ask, since he got so angry the last time she had.

He took a deep breath, and his face became almost rigid, but his eyes were soft. "You don't need to worry about that Tilly, because you will never be one, okay? Do you hear me? You aren't and never will be an orphan." Sam hugged her.

Sam started to leave, but Mathilde coughed and asked him to sing her their mother's lullaby. He obliged and turned out the light once he had finished.

Mathilde took her brother's words to heart and held true to her promise. The next morning she smiled at her father during breakfast and placed her small hand on his forearm in assurance. "So how is the Dola gang this morning?" Terrence placed his daughter on his lap and hugged her tight.

Mathilde smiled and bragged. "Sammy taught me that I need to be strong and now I'm not going to let Mason make me cry ever again."

Terrence looked at his oldest son questioningly, but Samuel just shook his head. He knew his father wouldn't be okay with how harsh he was with Tilly, but Sam knew that his mother wanted her to be strong and he would work his absolute hardest to make sure that he helped her. He owed it to their mother and he owed it to Tilly.

* * *

Over the next few years, Mathilde had her brother's teach her what it meant to be strong. She never cried or asked them to handle her bullies, because she refused to break her promise. It didn't take long for her to prove her own strength and soon she had no bullies to face and even started to make friends. Ken and Henry would always come pick her up from school, while Sam always rushed home to get the house in order and begin prepping for dinner.

When Mathilde turned 10 years old, Sam began to work in the mines with her father. The house suffered and Mathilde kicked the two younger brothers into gear and forced them to help her with making sure that Samuel and Terrence came home to a peaceful and clean sanctuary. Mathilde missed her oldest brother and would stay up extra late to eat dinner with him and their father.

A couple years later, Kenneth joined his father and older brother in the mines. It was a shock to the whole household. It was well known that the mines were the main place to find employment in their village, but Mathilde always believed that Kenneth would continue to go to school. He was undoubtedly the smartest and most motivated, but he was determined to pursue job security if it meant bringing home more income for the family.

The first day Kenneth worked in the mines he came home exhausted, but still found the energy to speak about the mining conditions with gusto. In summary, Kenneth was appalled by how the family who owned the mines seemed akin to slave drivers. Kenneth was quickly nudged by Samuel who interrupted him and made a joke about Kenny's overactive imagination, exaggerating on what were considered perfectly acceptable conditions.

Later that night, when Samuel, Terrence and Henry had gone to bed, Mathilde pulled Kenneth to the side and asked him to tell her the truth about what the mines were like. "Tilly, Sam and Dad don't want you to know the truth, they know you'll worry. The Wainwright's allow very few breaks and sometimes they force the miners to push beyond what might be considered safe."

"Why would you want to continue working there, Kenny?" Mathilde felt sick thinking her brothers' and father might be at risk for injury so some already rich family could cash out.

"Look, Till, there's only so much work to be fairly divided in this town and I am strong and healthy enough to work in the mines, there are some who aren't as lucky as I am. Plus, with my ambition, I might be able to make some changes. I can try to reach out to management and make work safer for Dad and Sam and everyone else down there. I think it's worth a shot." He smiled and playfully pushed her. "This means you need to work really hard in school. Henry will more than likely follow us and work in the mines after he's done with school. You have to be the one who makes it out of here and becomes independently wealthy and then you can take care of us. The Dola gang sticks together, right?"

Mathilde smiled. "Of course, and once I'm worth millions, we'll buy the mine and run it as I see fit. We could bring more jobs to this town and pay back everyone who helped us."

He looked at her with a cryptic expression. Mathilde didn't realize it was awe until he spoke. "You know, sometimes I can barely remember her face, but then I see the goodness in you and it feels like I'm looking back at Mom."

She smiled brightly and her eyes became glossy. "Really? You think so Kenny?"

"Sam says it all the time. He says that's why he wants us to push you so hard, because Mom was tough and you're like Mom. He says that Mom used to rub her belly and call you her little warrior. She said you would make our family complete. Dad told her not to expect a girl, that it was more likely that we would get another brother. But she would always glare at him and say not to question a mother's intuition." He began to laugh. "She always knew how to silence Dad."

"What else? What was she like?" Mathilde listened to her brother's memory of their mother until she fell fast asleep. Kenneth carried her to her bed and noticed that her smile was never disturbed in her sleep, probably still clinging to the secondhand memories of a mother she never got to know.

* * *

Henry did join his older brothers and father in the mine. Henry was never one to question patterns or go against the current; he was happy as long as they were all together. He remembered his mother just enough to recall waking up without her there for the first time. All he needed was to hold tight to his family and if that meant not asking questions and falling into a role that was expected of him, he was more than happy to oblige.

A few months after all the Dola men were working in the mines. Mathilde came home in an excited frenzy. She had just finished a conversation with her teacher. He had taught Kenneth and was amazed at the young man's attention to detail and skill with memorizing anything laid before him, but Mr. O'Connor told Mathilde that at the pace and dedication she was working towards that he could easily see her surpassing even her brother's academic accomplishments. O'Connor recommended moving her up in her classes and even advised pursuing higher education. Mathilde pulled dinner together from scratch, thrilled by the good news and the reminder that she had been keeping her promise to Kenny.

Terrence was overjoyed to hear his daughter's news. She beamed at the dinner table and it was one of those rare moments when Terrence felt at ease, completely content. Since the loss of his wife, he almost always felt guilt when he looked at Till, because even though he wouldn't trade his daughter for anything in the world, in a second of weakness he would look at her and think that begging his wife for her is why he no longer slept beside the love of his life and why he had learned to live with consistent heartache and in those moments of pity he became ashamed of himself for thinking anything that even resembled regret over his daughter. But he didn't need to think about that; today was a good day. "Just goes to show, never underestimate the Dola gang!" They all toasted to their youngest member, hooting, laughing and patting her on the back as she grinned until her cheeks were sore. Yes, today was a good day, but even good days end.

* * *

The retiring of that good day brought the worse day in its wake. Mathilde woke early and prepared breakfast for her family. Each man sipped his coffee, ate their breakfast and embraced her good day, none of them knowing it was goodbye.

Mathilde hurried to class eager to continue proving herself. O'Connor smiled and couldn't help but dote on the optimistic and promising student. He knew her history and saw how much work she put into becoming the best, all in the name of thanking her family. She was smart and had an undeniably bright future ahead.

In the mine, Kenneth felt something was wrong. The earth vibrated a warning that shook through his body. He tried to tell his brothers and father, but they likened it to paranoia. There was unrest in the mines. The shift before theirs had been subjected to new limits; they had been forced to mine beyond what was safe. The Wainwright's demanded more noteworthy progress. Digging a little deeper, moving a little faster, pushing even harder, that was the best way to work efficiently. The shift lead before the Dola's patted Terrence on the shoulder and told him to do his best because the slave laborers were a little low on mercy today.

Terrence made an offhand remark about him and his boys being able to handle themselves. They laughed and bid each other adieu until tomorrow. Within two hours, Terrence felt more tired than he ever had in his 51 years of life. All the Dola boys stuck close to their father, able to handle being pushed to their limits, with youth on their side.

Henry smiled at his father and handed him his handkerchief and made a joke about the day Mathilde would buy a big house for them to all retire in. Terrence laughed and it was the last sound to escape his mouth. A group nearby had dug too deep and pushed too hard, at the behest of their employer, and their world literally began to crumble. There was a shout and the whole mine came crashing down. There wasn't much time to move or scream or think and within a few seconds darkness descended and robbed the world of 20 good men, which included all four of the Dola's.

That day 14 year old Mathilde came home as soon as class let out. She was determined to immediately begin her homework. She felt pride and excitement with the path that was being laid out before her. All she had to do was work hard. Finally she could pay her brothers and father back. After all they had done for her, Mathilde at last found a way to make it up to them.

She set the table and began dinner. She looked at the other empty head of the table. The seat opposite her father, between her and Henry; even though Mathilde hated to assume, she had a feeling her mother was proud of how hard she had been working. She addressed the chair. "I'm going to make you even prouder. I'm going to do right by the Dola gang. I want to make things easier on Dad. I know I can do this." A knock at the door interrupted her reverie. Mathilde knew that it wasn't her brothers or father, they wouldn't be home for at least another hour.

She hesitantly opened the door and saw her mother's old friend and neighbor. "What is it, Betty?" She pulled the door back further and got a better look at the distraught and dazed older woman.

Betty approached the young girl and had no words to describe what had happened.

* * *

After an hour of denial, Mathilde kicked Betty out of her home. This was followed by three hours of screaming. After she lost her voice, she silently prayed for her own death, anything to consume her pain. Oblivion was better than heartbreak. She broke her hand on the wall after that. By midnight the tearless girl blacked out. It wasn't sleep, sleep was peaceful, sleep was rejuvenation. Her mind just needed to detach from anything and everything.

Mathilde talked to no one. Betty handled the arrangements. Within a few days, a service was held for the Dola men. A group memorial for the miners had been put together the day before, leaving this day to mourn the loss of the Dola men, a hub in the community. Tilly looked at no one and ignored the voices of pity and the meaningless condolences offered her way. What good was sorry now?

Betty talked hoping that Mathilde would listen and maybe promise to come home with her family that night. She still said nothing. Betty felt as if her heart was being crushed. No one ever deserved this kind of pain, especially not the faultless young woman.

Eventually Mathilde stood in silence and solitude. She removed the black veil from her eyes and crushed the thorny roses in her hand until her matching blood fell. She dropped the bloody rose over Samuel's grave. 22 years old and him the oldest of the brothers, Kenneth hadn't yet turned 20 and Henry was barely 18.

As the rose fell, Mathilde could hear Sam's voice in her head. "Damn liar!" She sneered at the headstone as she heard the memory of her oldest brother's voice promising her that she would never be an orphan.


	2. Ch 2: The Rogues

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. I decided to rate this fic K+. As far as I can remember, there is a slight curse or two, but nothing I would deem inappropriate beyond the equivalent of PG. If for some reason there is a complaint about this rating, please let me know and I will change it. As usual, I plan on posting Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. Please R &R, it is much appreciated. Thanks -Nikki**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2: The Rogues**_

Mathilde left her family home the next day. She couldn't handle the pity from others or her own memories. Leaving was harder than she ever thought it would be. She picked the house clean of whatever might come in handy. She brought a few items for sentiment; Kenneth's reading glasses, Henry's favorite toy from when they were children, Samuel's old and long untouched apron from his homemaker days, her father's pocket watch that her mother had given him in celebration of their engagement and her baby blanket that her mother had knitted while pregnant with her. She was gone soon after dawn.

* * *

Within two weeks of moving towards no destination, she felt hunger for the first time. Mathilde had run out of both money and food. She nearly sold her hair, but remembered her father once telling her that it was just like her mother's and the idea soon left her mind. A few days later she was stealing in random villages, poorly at first, but soon her skill developed. She romanced her thieving by remembering tales her father would tell all his children some nights (when he didn't have to work the next morning) about a nobleman who would rob from the rich to feed the poor. She never tried to kid herself by comparison though; the only person she fed was herself and she had no problem with that.

Well over a year had passed and she had taken to thieving like a natural, she had been known for being a quick learner once upon a time. At least that much hadn't changed. In one town, Mathilde had nearly been caught through one small miscalculation that nearly landed her in jail. She had narrowly escaped and had captured some attention in the process.

A man not much older than her approached Mathilde after her daring escape. "Thomas." He introduced himself and shook her hand.

Mathilde shook it. "Dola." She waited and the silence bothered her. "So, what do you want?"

"Look, Dola. A couple of my friends and I have been watching you lately." Dola looked at him confused and transparently bothered. "We're impressed with your skill."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She denied.

"You happen to be the only thief in this area that I have ever seen follow a pattern, which I find more than unorthodox. On one hand, it's incredibly dangerous and can get you caught, but on the other hand it denotes a methodical mentality, and shows that if it has worked for you unfailingly that it must be thoroughly researched which I find even more interesting."

"What's the problem, Thomas? Am I on your territory? Do you need me to move on?" Dola hadn't spoken to anyone in months and felt her voice might fail her soon, especially with how uneasy conversation now made her.

"Not exactly. Look, my friends and I have banded together."

A group of thieves? Dola wanted to laugh, but let him continue. "We are smart, motivated and sick of frying small fish if you know what I mean."

She knew all too well. Sometimes ambition and motivation could be a weakness, propelling one beyond what they might be able to handle. "Why risk it?"

"At what point is it no longer a risk, but a necessary progression of action?"

Dola pondered that point. At what point does stealing for the day to day stop being necessary and start becoming monotonous and futile?

"So what's your big plan?" Dola always wanted the bottom line in her vantage point.

"Let me buy you a drink and introduce you to some of our members and we can talk." Dola nodded and followed the young man into a tavern.

* * *

They called themselves 'The Rogues' and they were motivated, meticulous and even a little malevolent. Dola was courted by the idea of joining a ragtag group of thieves, but waited a month before committing. She hadn't been near people, really near them in a year and she wasn't sure if she could adjust to something once second nature, now foreign and uncomfortable. What made her give in was the reminder of monotony and if she had to be honest, boredom. Maybe she could be in a band; it wouldn't be like the Dola gang, but she could try being a Rogue, wasn't she already?

The Rogues were a small group of seven, including Dola. Most of their members had specialties. Thomas seemed the head of the band, his two right hand men were Rich and Kent, twin brothers he had known as a child; they were very focused on stealth, some of the best pickpockets Dola would ever see in her entire life. David was a skinny orphan who was skilled with daggers and always carried some. Ed was considered the least talented of the bunch, but armed with a short fuse and lacking common sense he was for all intents and purposes, fearless. Kyle was the real problem child of the group, he was the second oldest right behind Thomas and treated the band as if it was his own invention; he was smart and easily threatened. He seemed to come from a wealthy background and was the reason they had an airship as home base (it was by no means sophisticated, but held the crew comfortably in between scores.) Kyle didn't much care for having a female member and used every opportunity to remind his fellow band members of this. Within three months of joining The Rogues, Dola's patience for Kyle's snippy insults had run out.

Standing in the tavern, she gulped down what was left of her ale and socked him square in the nose. She wasn't sure what he took longer to recover from, the punch or the shock; either way, when his pause wore off, he charged at her. Dola took him down in a minute, surveyed the reactions of the bar mates, turned to her incapacitated band member and spoke clearly with a jagged edge to her voice that showed she meant business. "Kyle, I can handle your snark and I can overlook your uselessness, but don't ever question whether or not I should be here. Some of us don't have a choice and I'm not going to take snobbery from a spoiled little rich boy who joins a band because his mommy and daddy told him 'No' for once. Clear?" Kyle groaned and wiped blood from his nose and Dola took it as enough of a reply for her.

After that, there was no question about Dola's right to be a Rogue, in fact, there was no question about Dola at all. She seemed to have a weighty backstory, but any time a member would get curious, they would remember the look of bloody shame on Kyle's face when he was publicly taken down by a girl.

* * *

A lot of what The Rogues did consisted of mugging rich individuals of their heavy and burdensome purses. Thomas was always looking for a better opportunity, a way to promote them beyond the image of the common thief. He always looked to Dola for consideration and she happily obliged throwing out an idea or two. There was always blackmail or fraud, maybe even ransom. Thomas seemed intrigued by ransom, but couldn't think of a subject.

After several months of fruitlessness, one day while walking down a crowded street, the band decided to brainstorm. Dola tired of the heat and mugginess of the city, pulled her bandana from her head and wiped her brow clean; she decided to unravel her braids in favor of pulling her hair back out of her face. Thomas looked at her casually. Dola couldn't have been more than 17 years old and to the untrained eye she was actually quite pretty; fair skin, expressive eyes and long strawberry blond hair. She was bound to gather some attention, maybe which was one option he had never considered. Almost at that exact moment, a young man wearing glasses and standing beside two large gentlemen bumped into her. Dola muttered an apology without looking at the man, but the man's eyes were caught in her direction.

Thomas watched the interaction with curiosity. He told Dola and the boys to go on ahead and he would meet them later. He followed the young man who seemed to have a small posse that shadowed him. Thomas stealthily staked out the man for half the day.

"Where in the hell have you been, Thomas?" Dola muttered cantankerously. "You ask us to brainstorm with you and then you just disappear for half the day? Does that sound like a leader to you?"

Thomas shrugged and said, "If I thought for even a second you were actually questioning my authority, we might have a problem." The shrug insisted a casual disposition, but the edge in his voice insisted that he would have no problem making due on that promise.

Dola tried to passively shake away that direction of the conversation, afraid to admit even to herself that sometimes Thomas scared her. "Well, what kept you?"

"I was devising a plan. I know you're not going to like it, but it could be our ace in the hole. Get the others." Thomas ordered.

* * *

"So essentially, you want me, a skilled member of equal worth to play the damn bait?" Dola choked out. "Bait? Are you shitting me, Thomas?"

Kyle from across the table snickered. "Who'd even want to bite?"

"Would you like a black eye to match with that broken nose?" Dola spit out. Kyle much to his own embarrassment stayed silent and subtly touched the nose that had never quite healed.

"I've thought about this Dola. Sometimes it feels like we're getting nowhere and I think it is because we've been so focused on strength and not strategy." He sighed. "I hate to even ask this of you, but Kyle is ugly enough as a man, as a woman he couldn't even bait a blind man." Dola chuckled as did the rest of the table. "We are a crew and sometimes we have to do some shitty things to progress. It's the same with most families."

In spite of herself, Dola choked on her drink. "Who said we were family?"

Thomas spoke casually. "Well, aren't we?"

"Look, I never promised that and I certainly never promised to put on a coat of lipstick and a dress so I could bat some lashes at a target." It just didn't seem right to Dola, even if it did make a little sense.

"I know, Dola, but you have to hear me out. I saw this guy walking around with a hefty purse and two brutes that escorted him all day. Money talks and it's telling me that this guy is worth more than a moderately successful merchant. He seems to be the son of a wealthy family. You know how much I enjoyed that brilliant ransom idea you came up with earlier." Dola knew manipulation when she saw it, he was trying to compliment her other contributions to remind her that they brought her into The Rogues for several reasons that didn't include being just a simple pretty face.

"I don't know, Thomas. I'm not too keen on what you're asking. For the time being, why don't you just continue to do some surveillance before we charge through on any plans? Plus, we need to research more before we push on. Okay?" Dola attempted a compromise.

"That makes sense, Dola, but just know I'm not giving up on this plan. I saw that guy watch you. Entranced is the only way I can describe it. In a quiet setting away from his brutes, we could really take him by surprise. That's all I'll say for now. Kyle, we'll watch tomorrow. Rich and Kent you guys take the next day. I want to see this guy from every angle, just in case one pairing misses something." Thomas spoke with finality and just like that the meeting was adjourned and Dola's dignity was up in the air, just because some rich guy couldn't keep his eyes in his skull where they belonged.

* * *

The two days had passed and Dola was chomping at the bit, she was hoping that the pairings had found something, anything to disqualify Mr. Nosy as a possible target. Maybe he was just playing as a messenger for a rich family and possessed no ties to them beyond temporary employment. Dola could finally have some luck, right?

Thomas sat them all down in the tiny quarters that were The Rogues makeshift office. "You guys, I'm proud to say that our stakeout was actually successful. It seems our guy, Kurt comes from a very wealthy family." Dola didn't even try to hide her irritated grunt of displeasure. Great, she thought, now she would have to attempt to seduce a man when she didn't even know how to talk to one. She knew her strengths and was comfortable with fighting, stealing even manipulation to a certain degree, but acting as bait, that wasn't her specialty. She never knew how to pretend to be weak and she certainly didn't want to start now. Dola was resigned to tell her band that she refused; this was something she was almost sure she couldn't accomplish anyway, so in the long run she was saying no for all of them.

The boys all looked at Dola with little concern as if they expected this reaction from her. "He's the second son. The Wainwright's are a well-connected, indescribably wealthy family with the means to cash out a fortune to retrieve a beloved son."

"I'll do it." Dola spoke loud affirmation before she could stop herself; it was as if her subconscious understood, before she did.

Each member of the crew turned to face Dola with varying levels of surprise, shock and complete bafflement. "What's the plan?"

Thomas nodded with an open mouth. "Um, okay, that was a lot easier than I expected." He looked at Dola questioningly. "I guess, I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and ask what made you change your mind?"

"That's old news, Thomas, we're moving on. What's the plan?" Dola pushed on ahead, unable to admit what she was hoping to accomplish from this plan.

"Um. Well, there is a social gathering that is supposed to take place in about a month; all we need is to get Dola in. Then we have her pull Kurt off into some corner, distracted and unaware that Rich, Kent and I are waiting for him. Ed and David, you guys are on standby with transportation for our getaway. So it is just a quick slip in and slip out. Thoughts?" Thomas finished.

A cough interrupted the brief silence. Every head turned to face Kyle. "Yeah, what about me?"

"You sit here, twiddle your thumbs and continue to be useless. That shouldn't be a problem, right Kyle?" Even Dola had to admit that she was being a lot more antagonistic with Kyle ever since she had taken him down publicly, but she couldn't help it, after all the attitude he pulled on her, it felt nice to give it back to him here and there.

"I wouldn't be so rude to him, Dola. Kyle is a very important part of this plan." Kyle couldn't help but nod smugly at Thomas's words, not wondering what they could have meant, until Thomas continued. "After all, you don't want to piss off your date for the party."

There was brief second of flabbergasted silence and then hell broke loose. "Wait…" Dola began at the same time as Kyle as he shouted, "What?"

Thomas didn't even try to hide his satisfaction at seeing them both scrambled and bothered. Before any complaints could be spoken, Thomas explained himself. "Look, Kyle this is going to be a nice event and Lord knows common street scruff like Dola and the rest of us won't be able to get in. I know better than anyone what your family's connections are." Thomas shared an intimidating glance with Kyle. "Now it is time for you to pull your strings to get both you and Dola in." It wasn't a question, it was a command.

Thomas spent the rest of the night going over – in agonizing detail – the layout of the venue and where he and the twins would be waiting to intercept Kurt and Dola. Kyle was meant to leave once Dola and Kurt moseyed off to somewhere more private, and would meet up with Ed and David. Dola swallowed a sour feeling that she would have to work alongside Kyle, even being expected to walk in arm and arm; the only satisfaction she took from this information was confirmation that she was right in assuming that Kyle had no real value to The Rogues, minus an inherited pedigree from his mostly estranged parents. Now who didn't have the right to be there?

The bad news was far from being passed on to Dola as Thomas informed her that she would be spending even more time with Kyle as he instructed her how to behave herself properly and what habits might get her negative attention. Even if he was worthless, Kyle was still expected to teach her something? The idea made her laugh sardonically.

* * *

It took some pitching in from all the boys to afford Dola's attire for the night. Even though she was soured on the idea of wearing a dress, she obeyed. This was more important than a score, or respect for her common thief friends; this was revenge. It wouldn't make a difference besides making her feel a little better, it couldn't change things and she certainly wouldn't be able to rob them enough, but she could do something, even if it would only be a minor inconvenience.

Dola couldn't stop herself from volunteering the moment she heard that loathed name fall from Thomas's mouth. The Wainwright's, a rich to-do family that no doubt had no idea what she had suffered, what she had lost on their selfish journey to an extra dime. The thought made her sick. She almost didn't want to bring their son home; a dark part of Dola's soul thought that it would be so easy to collect ransom and then throw their son to the depths of the ocean. Would they feel even a fraction of her pain? She doubted it and quickly had to remind herself that she could not stoop to their levels, she could not steal a young man's life just because her father and three brothers died after being pushed beyond what was safe. The Wainwright's; the family that owned the mine, the slave workers who forced and demanded and took from their employees until the lights went out and 20 men died.

Dola didn't sleep the night she heard that name. All she could do was just lay and think about how it wouldn't be good enough, it wouldn't feel good enough; it wouldn't bring her family back.

The day Dola began working with Kyle was a long one, probably one of the longest days of her life. He loved making her feel inadequate. It didn't matter that she was already smart or that she was a fast learner, he still heaped on verbal abuse and insults. Dola wanted to beat the loving daylight out of the man, but knew he would turn away and take the one chance she had of any revenge no matter how unfit it may be against the crime that earned it; and now that she had tasted it, it couldn't be taken from her, she wouldn't allow it.

They were taking a break when Dola dug into her food. Kyle scoffed as if she hadn't been listening to a single thing he had said. "So," he spoke with some hesitance. "Where did you learn to fight?"

Dola looked up, amazed that Kyle seemed to actually want to talk to her, not yell or insult, but just ask a question. She tried to shake it off and didn't want to divulge much. "I was bullied a lot as a kid and I was lucky enough to have some tough people in my life who taught me how to be strong like them."

"Family?" It didn't seem as though he was trying to pry.

"Yes." She said matter-of-fact, not encouraging follow-up questions, but getting them nonetheless.

"You never talk about them. What happened?" Kyle spoke with no kindness, but pure curiosity.

"That's my business and I don't see why I should be expected to share with you. Just like how I don't ask about your family or how you got to be with The Rogues." Dola continued shoveling the food into her mouth by forkfuls.

"I noticed your reaction when Thomas mentioned the Wainwright's." Kyle spoke in muted fascination. "You see, you've already muzzled the reflex. You are smart, I can see that. So what, you trying to get back at every rich family because you grew up with nothing?

"I grew up with everything!" She barked at Kyle and then forced herself to take a deep breath, Kyle couldn't hide the surprise on his face and felt the curiosity grow tenfold. "Look Kyle, I don't owe you my story and you haven't earned your questions, so let's just get back to work and be done with each other as soon as possible, okay?"

"Fine by me." He muttered.

Dola sighed. It would have been better to start with nothing, than have everything and lose it in one fell swoop.


	3. Ch 3: The Plan

***A/N: Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. Sorry, it's been a busy week. I just started a new job. I'm usually better at updating. Thanks - Nikki**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3: The Plan**_

Dola handled her nerves as best she could the day of the party. Thomas said it was something called a gala. She just nodded her head and continued ignoring anything he said after that. She knew she was supposed to be listening, but it was all white noise to her that might distract her from what her part in this was; smile, be charming and remember that being herself was a contradiction to both. Everything went through one ear and out the other.

Dola dressed carefully, happy to focus nimbly on the buttons as her mind tried to come up with ways to magically learn how to be charming and flirtatious. She sighed deeply. She was a thief, a hardened nomad, a lawless individual and she was afraid of pretending to be interested in a boy. If Sam could see her now. She shook her head and tried to mute her pain; a lifetime ago, she told herself.

Dola finished getting ready and was thankful for Thomas's help, she knew Kyle would spend the whole time saying that no matter how long or how hard they worked on her it wouldn't help a damn bit.

Dola, much to her chagrin, did in fact walk arm in arm with Kyle. What bothered her even more was that Kyle looked better than her in a suit that was older than her dress. She was also embarrassed by the fact she was clueless about the event. The dress flowed softer than anything she had ever worn, it was a burgundy color that she thought would wash her out, but Thomas told her she looked perfect and she knew she was no one to judge beauty so she accepted the compliment.

The second they entered the gala, Dola's mind immediately began working differently, her focus fell to the details and honed in her surroundings. Kyle stayed close by and helped fend off 4 men that tried to approach her, although Kyle would never admit that to her. He didn't want her to think that she was pretty just because a few blind men at a gala tried to get her attention. It didn't matter, Dola was ready for her target and despite Kyle's best efforts she had noticed the men seeking her out, but since they might become an obstacle for Kurt's affections, she was thankful they were chased away.

It took nearly an hour before Dola noticed a man looking at her intently. He had brown hair, wore glasses, fit the description of Kurt and did seem vaguely familiar. "Kyle?" She said under her breath and subtly gestured to the man across the room.

Kyle nodded and turned from her without a single word. The moment felt awkward to her, standing in solitary silence, but luckily she didn't have to wait long. Kurt approached with an easy smile and a calm, modest disposition. He went to take her hand in greeting and the moment he said Wainwright, she couldn't help the reflex to his squeeze his hand. Kurt looked up at her surprised, but no worse for the wear and Dola felt herself blush in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

He nodded it off and waited for her to give her name. In a brief second she panicked. A Wainwright would more than likely be busy counting his inheritance and wouldn't know the name to some employees that died a couple of years ago, but even so, she didn't like the risk. "Mathilde." She just slightly curtsied and then wondered if they gesture was appropriate or if it seemed mocking.

Kurt simply smiled and said, "What a fearsome and beautiful name; should the same be said of you?"

For the first time in her life, Dola was aware that a man was flirting with her; she wanted to laugh at the thought. "Even more so." She laughed.

"Would you care to dance?" He lifted his brow inquisitively and nodded towards the dance floor.

Dola was suddenly thankful for Kyle's tutelage and nodded. The dance was slow and Dola, despite her usual clumsiness was able to power through near effortlessly. No word was spoken during the dance, but Kurt's eyes never left her face. Dola could feel her face turning beet red and couldn't decide whether ignoring his stare or meeting it head on would be the better choice. However, Dola was no quitter, and in her competitive mind this felt like a challenge, and no challenge would make her cower, so she turned her stare directly onto his with defiance.

She immediately regretted the decision. Kurt's gaze actually made her uncomfortable and almost scared her because of how truly earnest it was. He wasn't leering or drooling, that, she could handle; it nearly felt like he was trying to see into her soul. Her stomach felt queasy and warned her to look away, but she couldn't lose and soon after the song ended.

"Do you mind if we take a turn outside? I feel flushed from the dancing." Dola could barely hold down a gag from the tone of her voice.

Kurt nodded and offered her his arm. The cool air rushed to her face and Dola ingested a deep icy breath with relief. "You know, Miss Mathilde, I have to say I feel like I've seen you before, perhaps in the market?"

"Well, I have been to the market quite often recently. I am surprised you might even recognize me. I usually am in britches on the way home from horse-riding." She tried to sound embarrassed as if dressing in common clothes was something to be ashamed of.

"I think those clothes quite suit you. You know, fearsome and all." Dola smiled at that. They were nearing their clearing and would be nabbed at any moment. "It's a shame britches aren't considered proper attire for a women at a social gathering, wouldn't you say?"

There was a sound in the brush and despite Kurt's earlier sentiments of her fearsomeness, he actually attempted to shield her from what was a threat on him. With his back to her, he didn't see Thomas slip right behind him, delivering a blow to the back of his head.

* * *

Poor Kurt awoke with a headache and a fuzzy recollection of the night before. He remembered running into the girl from the market, the one he often thought of. They were walking outside when they were accosted by what he now assumed were vagabonds. Kurt immediately tensed, wondering if Mathilde was able to escape.

He looked around the dark room; it resembled the circular quality that most airships possessed. Kurt was startled at the realization that several eyes were staring at him, and much to his own mortification, two of the eyes belonged to Mathilde. Kurt was quickly able to piece together what must have happened and for some reason he felt almost giddy at the thought.

"So I'm guessing this is ransom?" The male audience looked surprised, but Mathilde just kept staring at him like an animal in captivity. For some reason, Kurt liked the idea that she was at that party dressed properly and behaving just so, all as a cover. It seemed 'britches Mathilde' was the real Mathilde; Kurt found comfort in that.

"Yes, quick thinking there, Kurt." The seemingly oldest man spoke. "We had Dola over there catch your eye and lured you out. Now, we intend some compensation from your family for your safe return." Kurt felt confused the moment he heard Dola, and soon after felt stupid for thinking she had actually given him her real name. "So, do as we say and you can join your family soon enough, simple wouldn't you say?"

"Sounds simple enough; I think I can handle captivity for a bit." Kurt said with no fear, betrayal or indignation. If Dola didn't know better, she would think the man was actually looking forward to being kidnapped. Soon after, the band left Kurt in his chamber and met in their functioning office.

Dola began first. "I rescind the prisoner to you and consider myself clear of the responsibility and since you all let my perfectly fine talents go to waste on this one, I think it is only fair that the 'bait' be excused from any guard or food duty."

Thomas nodded at that. "Gentlemen?" There were nods all around. "I believe we can be amenable to that condition."

"Good." Dola didn't want to admit that Kurt made her uncomfortable. His gaze actually made her feel transparent and after hiding so much for so long, she didn't like to be seen. All she had to do was avoid him for the time being, until they received payment and then she could be comfortable again.

* * *

Dola's plan did not work out so well. On the second day of his captivity, Kurt refused by any and all accounts to eat. After his second meal rebuff, he announced to Kyle that unless his food was brought to him by Dola, he wouldn't eat at all.

Dola was possessed to strangle the spoiled rich boy, not Kyle, although him too. No, she wanted to strangle Kurt. He was the captive and now he was making demands. She suggested to Thomas that they let him starve a bit, as it would help him grow some character and maybe some appreciation for food.

Thomas pulled her aside and apologized to her twice, two times more than she had ever seen Thomas apologize in the past to anyone. Even when he had nearly cut off Rich's left hand he said, 'Maybe you should be more careful of where you stand next time.' "Look, Dola," he began. "I understand that after you played your part I shouldn't be asking you of this, but we can't have Kurt becoming sick or starving because he refuses to eat. I may be a thief, but I'm not a liar and I did say we'd return him unharmed after we're paid. I could really use your help on this. A hostage is no good if they starve themselves to death. And we don't know how long it could take to get his parents to pay up; he could've starved himself into a grave by then. Once we lose our leverage, we might as well kiss our money goodbye."

Dola sighed in exasperation. On one hand, Thomas hand promised, on the other hand, a dead hostage was no good to them at all. "Ugh, Dammit. Fine, but I am owed for this, like big time."

Dola couldn't believe she had agreed after she had finally been granted one entitlement. She stood up straight and meandered toward their makeshift dungeon with unappetizing gruel in hand. She opened the door, set the gruel down on a table and started to leave. "Wait." Kurt called out in earnest. "I don't like to eat alone. Stay." He offered her the one stool in the room and quickly sat on the floor mat in an attempt to prevent any objection.

Dola sighed slightly and nodded, determined to just sit and let him stare until he was bored. "So, your name is Dola?"

"Yes."

"So why did you say it was Mathilde?" Kurt asked.

"Because it is." Dola offered.

"Are you being cryptic on purpose? Or is this another personality trait revealing itself?"

Dola smiled despite herself. "Dola is my last name; I let the boys call me Dola." She saw no harm in admitting now that he was their prisoner.

Kurt thought the name sounded vaguely familiar. "Why do you go by Dola?"

Dola cleared her throat. "I think I've divulged enough to my captive for the day." She smiled sarcastically.

"Fine," Kurt spoke eagerly, "I can divulge some to even the playing field, if you'd like." There was a lilt of laughter in his voice.

"Even what playing field? You are my captive. There is no playing field, the game has been won."

"I have cooperated thus far, making your job unbelievably easier. I even have learned how to acquire leverage over your crew. I happen to consider that success." Dola hated to admit that she did as well.

"That's your version of it." She smiled.

"So, Kurt Wainwright, born second son to the Wainwright family. My older brother is named Heinrich and is self-important to a fault." He smiled. "Not like me, of course. I don't get along with him very well. Um… let's see, what else? I'm very fond of engineering. I've contributed to creating a lever that helps with a pulley we have recently started to use in our mines. I also helped plan the gala. My parents aren't as keen on charitable giving as I am."

Dola nodded wondering if the mines were a safer place to work after the incident. 'Incident' seemed such a trivial word, but she fought off a shudder. "How nice of you." She grabbed his now empty bowl and started to walk away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, dinner time is over." Kurt reached out, but Dola quickly slipped outside.

Dola went straight to her favorite secluded room in the airship and huddled where she slept through the night.

* * *

Dola woke up to a flick on her forehead. She looked up to see Kyle smirking down at her. "Come on, Den Mother. It is time to feed your pet." He shoved the bowl of food into her arms.

"So, what about you?" Kurt asked before any greetings, the moment Dola opened the door.

"Hello to you, too. What about me?" Dola handed him his food and sat down on the bench before Kurt even had a chance to offer it to her.

"Tell me something about yourself. All the guys are boring brutes, but you are interesting. Tell me something they don't know." He smiled at the promise of a secret.

"I already have. The boys don't know my name."

"But why not? It fits you so well."

Dola had to look away from the approving look he was giving her that made her stomach feel like mush. "To me, it was more important to be known as a Dola than as Mathilde." She tried to shrug casually.

"Where did you get the name?" Kurt tried not to sound pushy as if this was the normal development of conversation.

Dola sighed, but decided to give in. It wasn't like her life was some state secret and although nosy; Kurt was surprisingly easy to talk to. "My mother, she died giving birth to me and my father told me it was the last thing she said. She wanted me to be a warrior." She smiled fondly, missing someone she had never met.

"That seems important to me. How could you cast it away?"

"Because I am a Dola. I would rather hold to a name that reminds me of the people who matter most to me than to someone I never met."

Even Kurt thought that almost sounded harsh. "You know you're just like when I first met you, at the market." He chuckled. "Do you ever look at someone and feel like you can see through to their core? Almost like they are transparent?"

"Are you saying that about me?" Dola wasn't sure if she should feel flattered or insulted. "You hardly know me."

"Maybe not the specifics, but you've got character; the kind you wear on your sleeve. It's as if you have a warm, visible aura." He tilted his head with a crooked smile. "It's who you are that I can see that's why I'm so curious of whom you were."

"That seems almost profound." She laughed.

"You know, that name almost seems familiar." Kurt paused trying to place it.

"So, the boys have mailed your ransom note just last night. How long do you think it would take to get a reply?" Dola quickly changed the subject.

"Hmm, soon enough, I gather. I just hope they didn't ask for too much."

"Your family has buckets of money to burn."

"Yes, and no doubt they would spend nearly all of it if you had kidnapped Heinrich, but I'm the disappointing son, living in the shadow of a great heir. The insurance on my life isn't a fraction to his." He smiled, but the gesture didn't reach his eyes.

"Surely you must be exaggerating."

"I hope I am, but I don't think so. I'm sorry for The Rogues' misfortune for kidnapping me. Hopefully it all ends well, in the end."

"Aren't you the least bit worried?"

"Why should I be? It's going to happen either one way or another, all I can do is be accommodating and hope for mercy."

Dola tried to smile. "Is that what you call this? Accommodating? Blackmailing your captors into having your way? That almost seems, dare I say, demanding."

"Well, you can take the rich boy from power, but you can't take the power from the rich boy." Dola laughed and Kurt openly brightened at that. "I just wanted to know if I was right about you."

"And your conclusion?"

"Still pending… another smile from you and I'll have finished."

Dola laughed facetiously. "Well, it's more fun to keep you guessing. Maybe I will just need to be cross in the future."

"I wonder how long you could manage that."

"You'd be surprised. Done?" She grabbed the bowl and left before Kurt could reply.

* * *

Dola left the ship with a brief word to David about feeding Kurt if she wasn't back in time for lunch. She walked through the market, just watching the people around her. She would see families and for that brief moment, she would be so jealous, it nearly made her bitter. She tried not to think about her family, because whenever she let their memory escape from her subconscious, she would feel overcome with a pain that nearly had her gut-wrenching and brought her to her knees.

Even if they were gone, Dola knew that she had to stay strong for their memory. She walked until her feet burned and before she knew it the sun was almost setting. She had missed lunch after all.

"Where the hell have you been, Dola?" Thomas asked the second she walked through the door.

"Out, Thomas. I was taking a breather from babysitting, which I know I am more than entitled to." She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but got riled up instead. "And since when the hell did you become my keeper?"

She expected a rage-fueled rebuttal, but Thomas's jaw tensed and he gave her a curt nod. "Look, Dola. I get that you're angry and you're allowed to be, but we have a socially important prisoner and someone might've seen you with him. I'm trying to be logical about this. I don't want anyone going out alone, especially the last person he was seen with. Please, just avoid the temptation and stay close."

Dola stood at the helm and looked at the open sky before them; there was an ache in her gut. For the first time since joining The Rogues, she felt tied down. Her muscles were screaming to be stretched. "Have you ever thought about taking this airship out and becoming pirates?" The idea almost sounded ridiculous to her but she let it marinate for a second. It was essentially what they did now, but with more freedom, more space to breathe.

"No." Thomas said simply. "That's too much work and we would need a more experienced crew."

A brief thought flitted into Dola's mind. "How are we on supplies?" She realized that the last time they had made a run for food was well over a week before and now they were feeding an extra mouth.

Thomas didn't seem swayed by the change in topic. "We're low. I was thinking about going with the boys tomorrow."

She turned. "All of them?"

"Yeah, we can stretch out and grab even more."

"Who's going to watch the prisoner?"

Thomas uncharacteristically smirked. "You already proclaimed yourself babysitter. I would hate to take that position from you."

"Jerk." Dola scolded. "You better not be gone long." She marched out of the room with one more glance to the sky.

David accosted her. "It took a lot of convincing to get that guy to eat. Once I promised you would be in for dinner, he finally agreed." David smiled. "I think someone's got a crush on you."

"Ha," Dola laughed with no humor.

"Anyway, you're on dinner duty." He walked away without another word.

"I should be excluded from dinner duty, seeing as my one condition was ignored!" She yelled out after David. He dismissed that with a wave, not turning around to see her glare at him.

Dola set to making some simple vegetable stew seeing as they were low on food. She ate her portion slowly in the silent kitchen. She begrudgingly dragged her feet with a bowl for Kurt. He smiled when she walked in. "So where have you been?"

"Are you my mother?" She said tiredly as she handed him the bowl.

Kurt's face fell a little. "No, I was just curious. Is this you cross?"

"I went for a walk." Dola denied that she felt a little bad. "Sometimes I feel so cooped up."

Kurt nodded. "Do you have any family that are miners?"

Dola's gut tightened, she didn't anymore. "No, why do you ask?"

"That name sounds familiar. It sounded like something I heard my parents talk about once." He shrugged casually.

"What about?"

"I honestly can't remember."

Dola tried not to see red, but found it difficult. Four men dead in one of his mines, leaving an orphan all alone and he couldn't remember? "Eat quick; I'm not in the mood to converse."

Kurt looked at her surprised. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not your friend, Kurt. I'm your captor and I'm sick of entertaining you with conversation just to appease and provide you an escape from boredom." She seethed.

"What's got into you?"

Dola snatched the half-eaten stew from his hands. "I honestly can't remember." She shut the door loudly and tossed the rest of his food.


	4. Ch 4: The Reply

_**Chapter 4: The Reply**_

Dola awoke to the sound of a door closing. She quickly realized that the boys had just left for town, which meant she was left with Kurt. She groaned in annoyance and walked to the kitchen. Food had already been made. She ate as slowly as she could manage and then walked to Kurt's quarters.

She opened the door, set the food on the stool and stood beside the door. "You don't have to stay." She finally made eye contact with Kurt, who spoke hesitantly. "I obviously made you angry last night. I don't know how, but I can tell you don't want to be stuck with me. You can leave." Dola opened the door. "Before you go, at least tell me why you got so angry."

She was tired, drained, pained and didn't care about pretenses anymore. "About two years ago, a father and his three sons were crushed to death in your family's mines, among 16 other men. They were pushed beyond safety limits by rules that your family invoked. Their names were Terrence, Samuel, Kenneth and Henry Dola and they were good, kind men who had their lives ahead of them. In one moment, I lost my father and 3 brothers, I lost my family, my life, everything. And you couldn't even be bothered to remember their names." Dola quickly shut the door behind her, not wanting to see his face.

The day passed slowly. When it was time for lunch, Dola opened the door to a crack, set his food on the floor and shut it. She heard him call out, "I'm sorry." It should have meant nothing to her, but from the tone in his voice, she could tell that he was trying to convey more than words could articulate.

* * *

It was nearing dinner time and Dola was feeling paranoid. The boys had been gone for hours; they could be really stocking up, maybe they were goofing off or they could've been caught. She really hoped for the first. Before she knew what she was doing, she opened the door to Kurt's room.

He sat silently on his makeshift bed, which was just a cushioned floor mat. Kurt's head lifted in Dola's direction, but he couldn't meet her eyes. For a brief second, Dola felt bad; Kurt had seemed like nothing but a decent person thus far and she had unloaded her tragedy on him, looking to place the blame where he was faultless. He hadn't made the decisions that cost her everything; and even if forgetting was callous, it had been two years.

"Follow me." Dola spoke before her mind could decipher what she was saying or why she was saying it.

She turned her back and walked quickly. She didn't need to look behind her to know that he was close behind. After a few turns and a stretch of hallway, she opened up a door and ushered him in; they still had yet to make eye contact. Kurt looked up and Dola watched with subtle satisfaction as his jaw went slack. His eyes filled with a sense of wonder at the large engine room around them. "This is incredible." He whispered as if speaking too loud might shatter the mirage.

"I think so." She spoke soft in kind.

He touched a gear nearby and they stood in companionable silence. Several minutes passed and stretched between them. Kurt finally spoke, not looking away from where his hands almost caressed the warm metal beneath them. "I can't imagine what that must've been like for you and I'm ashamed by my own insensitivity."

Dola watched him in silent fascination. "You had no way of knowing. The boys don't even know. I've never talked about it with anyone."

"You must hate me."

"I did." Dola refused to be anything but frank. "The moment the plan was hatched, I jumped at the chance to cause your family any pain. I even entertained the thought of hurting you." Kurt turned and looked at her. "I thought if it was so easy for your family not to care, then why should I have to? I was determined to rob them, like they had robbed me, even if the retaliation wasn't anything close to equivalent." She looked at him. "But I can't blame you; it's not your fault. I just…" A shaky breath quivered from Dola's throat and she was embarrassed by the vulnerability of it. "Can we not talk about this anymore?"

Kurt nodded, his gaze still intent, but he spoke softly. "Will you tell me more later?" It wasn't hard for Dola to interpret that he wasn't just talking about her feelings on kidnapping him or losing her family, he was trying to get her to just tell him more in general.

"Maybe." She sighed lightly, devoid of any despair. "I'm in no mood to make promises and you have a cell to go back to."

She tucked him back into his room and got to work on dinner. The boys piled in a few minutes after she had finished. Ed was three sheets to the wind and practically swinging. David brought Kurt his food at the behest of Dola, when she noticed a strange look on Thomas's face. The rest of the men ate loud and slowly in the kitchen, while Dola carted Thomas into the control room. "What, Thomas?"

"We got a reply." He said, his voice stunned and something else she couldn't quite name.

"And?" She prompted, feeling nervous despite herself. Thomas stared back for nearly a minute when Dola was finally able to recognize that expression, he was dumbfounded. "Thomas?"

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "They refused to pay a dime. They said they would disown him before they would cough up a cent." If Dola's jaw hung, she was too preoccupied to correct it.

* * *

The Rogues slept heavily that night, tired from the trek to town, but Dola tossed and turned as did Thomas. What did this mean? They had tried to approach this situation with as much strategy and forethought as they possessed, but here they were several days later, in the hole and too damn confused to even brainstorm their next move.

Could they just let Kurt go? That idea almost seemed laughable; what would stop him from passing on information to his kin? Before they had planned on using some of their ransom to refuel and relocate, but with nothing to show for their efforts, it wouldn't be hard for Kurt to give up enough clues to send the law in the right direction and catch The Rogues before they could even afford to move on.

Dola felt sick to her stomach. There was a look in Thomas's eyes the night before, a look she had seen from every other member, but him. It was desperation. He had clearly felt like this situation had got the better of him and now he wasn't sure where to move on to. Thomas in uncharted territory was a frightening thing; he always had a handle on things, but right now he was unpredictable. Dola couldn't stand the thought of not knowing what might happen next.

Before Dola could stop herself, she barged into Thomas's room. "So, what?" She breathed and tried to channel a less demanding tone. "What are we going to do? What's the plan?"

Thomas shook his head, still awake sitting in bed. "I'm not entirely sure." He breathed steady and slow. "I say we dump him."

Dola nodded at that. It should be simple enough, dropping Kurt off somewhere. He would find his way home soon enough, though Dola doubted he would want to go back if he knew how his family was more than willing to turn their backs on him. "I kind of feel a little bad for him. It would be hard to go home once you learn your family doesn't give a damn about you."

"No, Dola. We're not just dropping him off; we can't." Dola looked at him not quite sure if he meant what she was afraid he meant. "Look, what's one less rich asshole?"

Dola's eyes widened. "I know you are not talking about upgrading ourselves from thieves to murderers so casually. What the hell, Thomas?"

He was eerily calm when he replied. "What would you suggest, Dola? Releasing our captive? If we let him go, we'll be proving that we aren't serious about what we're doing, that if someone says 'no' to us, we'll just cower like a dog with our tails between our legs, because we are too afraid to do what's needed."

"But there's more to it, than that. You're talking about killing a person; all for the sake of reputation?" She said, incredulous.

"I haven't made a decision quite yet, Dola. I need the day or so to weigh our options."

"Are you going to tell the boys?"

"I'm going to have to. We'll talk later today."

Dola crossed her fingers that everyone else would see that even if Thomas had a point, it wasn't worth killing someone. The boys had to see what a big mistake this was and as long as there was some opposition to Thomas's proposition, then Kurt would be fine and Dola wouldn't have to worry. She hated that she feared for him, but she couldn't help herself; the idea of killing Kurt was unimaginable, especially now after seeing that like her, he also was an orphan, in his own way.

* * *

Dola tried to quiet her nerves when she brought Kurt his food. He ate with a smile on his face, while she had to swallow her anxiety. Kurt took a breath, "I want you to know that after what you told me, I am resolved to make a change with the way my father and brother do business. I know it can't replace what you've lost," he gave that thought a moment of silence. "But I can stop it from happening to anyone ever again." She had inspired him and the look he gave her translated that well enough.

Kurt was reaching for conversation, but he could sense her hesitance. "Thank you." Dola finally met his gaze. "For yesterday, I mean." His eyes were soft and the warmth in Dola's stomach quickly turned to a sickness in her gut.

"It was nothing." Dola tried to look away and felt a slight blush in her face from the sincerity of his thanks.

"No, really. After everything you have gone through, I amazed you were able to have any kind of compassion for me. I may not be entirely scared right now, but it can get pretty disorienting when I don't know what's coming next and your kindness really means a great deal to me." He let out an embarrassed laugh and shyly looked away. "It sounds trivial, but it has been nice getting to know you." Kurt took a deep breath and met her eyes. "You know, I'm really glad that you're just like how I first imagined you."

Dola laughed at that and her eyes narrowed playfully. "Just like how you first imagined? Am I that predictable?"

"Well, a little better, I guess. Appeased?"

"A little. Now, eat your damn food." She smiled humoredly. Kurt nodded and finished his breakfast quickly. "See you at lunch." Dola grabbed his dishes and turned towards the door.

"It's a date." Kurt said playfully.

"Ha ha. Not even close."

Dola headed to the kitchen and felt her gut tighten. She breathed shallowly. There was no reason to worry, the group would be too afraid to crossover into killers. Kurt would be fine; she didn't need to think about losing the first person she had felt close to since she lost her family. It would all work out and she would laugh later for having ever been nervous.

* * *

The Rogues all sat quietly around the table, while Dola wrung her fingers beneath it. Thomas spoke steady and confident, more than likely trying to convince the group so they wouldn't see his trepidations. He finished without interruptions and looked to the members before them. "Arguments, either for or against?"

Rich and Kent just nodded at him. Dola had counted on them to follow Thomas blindly, having been with him since childhood. Ed looked pensive for the first time, until he spoke. "Eh, let's waste him. It seems the only option."

Dola felt stupid for not seeing that coming. She spoke hesitantly, not wanting to seem too attached, but more thorough. "I think we should think about this for a second you guys; we're talking about killing someone. That's going to have much larger repercussions than I think any of us are prepared for. Are you guys okay with killing someone in cold blood?"

Thomas sighed and spoke as if he was trying to explain something to a child. "It's the natural progression of things right now, Dola…"

She interrupted him before he could continue. "I don't accept that. Murder isn't the natural progression of anything."

"It is in this situation. We're thieves, at what point did you expect every job to go smoothly and end amicably? We don't have a moral code, Dola. We have to do what is best for the group."

"Getting a large price on our heads is what is best for the group?" She tried to quiet the passion in her voice, but she was quickly losing patience with this train of conversation.

"No, avoiding capture is. Think about it, they wouldn't even consider the thought of paying a cent in exchange for a living son. Do you really think they would pay anything noteworthy to catch who killed him? They don't give a shit. I say we cut our losses."

"A person is not a loss, Goddammit!"

Dola's spine quivered when she heard a condescending 'tsk tsk' erupt from Kyle's mouth. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much." He sneered in her direction. "I think Dola's gone soft for the rich boy."

Dola couldn't stop the reflex as her hand flew of its own accord and struck Kyle in the face. "You watch what you say, Kyle. I won't take any accusations of that kind, least of all from you." She breathed deeply and silenced the rage in her expression. "I want best for the crew and if we kill the whelp things will get even messier. I say we take some time and see if the Wainwrights," she spit, "decide to rethink their original stance on ransom."

For the first time David, Dola's ace in the hole spoke. "So we can be caught red-handed with the rich boy? I don't see a scenario where this plays out in our favor, D. I say we quit now while we're ahead."

Kyle spoke, still smug. "Yeah, I say we trash Dola's boyfriend too."

"HEY!" Shouted Thomas. "Enough, Kyle." Thomas turned his attention and looked at her in disappointment, as if she wasn't being a team player. "Dola, you have been overruled. This is happening."

Dola shrugged, trying her hardest to seem casual. "Fine, but if the shit hits the fan, the murder is on you six." She took a sip of some water and tried to sound conversational. "So, how do you want to do this?"

Kyle looked surprised. "You don't care that you've lost?" He sounded skeptical.

"Look, I only want to pursue the crew's safety and if majority calls for it I have to trust that you guys know what you're doing. How should we proceed? Nothing messy, okay? I'm not going to be Den Mother and clean up after you guys."

Thomas thought this through; he had expected her to challenge him some more. "I don't know, but why don't we handle this tomorrow?"

Dola called attention. "I have a suggestion." Thomas looked back at her waiting for another argument. "As far as how we dispose of him, that is." She smirked and ignored the way it triggered a lurching in her gut. "I say you all find a way to put the body somewhere public, in town."

"Are you crazy?" Kyle spit out.

"Look, Kyle if we are doing this, we need to send a message. You guys want to establish a reputation, there's no better way than this. No one will ever be able to doubt the vigilance and follow-through that The Rogues possess ever again. We can make an example of the Wainwrights. The Rogues will not be underestimated or insulted." She had to contribute even if she hoped they would never get that far.

Thomas thought for a second. "Okay, Ed: I say you take care of the boy tomorrow. Then at night we bring the body to town and practically drop it at the doorstep of the Wainwrights. Good?"

Ed nodded, unaffected by being ordered to do the dirty work. They all talked a big game, but Dola knew that none of them had ever killed a man before, which explained the delegation of responsibility. In a minute, Dola's entire opinion of all the boys changed. They were all just a bunch of cowards and she felt ashamed to have aligned herself with them for so long. "I say we fuel up. We may need to get away pretty quick after the drop tomorrow."

"Good point, Dola." Thomas pointed to Rich and Kent. "Boys, fuel run tonight. David, you watch the prisoner for now. We'll take shifts through the day and into the night. If he escapes, we are screwed. Dola, you take over after David in 5 hours and watch until you are replaced with Kyle, who will watch from the dinner shift to early morning. Okay?"

"Do you still want me to bring meals? He might suspect something if not. Thoughts?" Dola asked.

"Yeah, when you take over Dola, bring him late lunch and tell him that we won't have dinner, give him some excuse, spoiled food, molded bread, I don't care. Just be calm and comforting; he trusts you." Thomas looked around the table. "Everybody clear on their jobs? Kyle, you make lunch so Dola can rest before her shift."

* * *

Dola sat on her bed, flabbergasted. They actually expected her to be able to sleep when they were supposed to kill a person the next day? She began to formulate a plan, amazed at how quick she could turn on these men she had been working with for nearly a year to protect a stranger she hadn't known even a week. Could Kyle be right? She never thought that was possible. But maybe on the off chance and against the odds, he was right; maybe she was soft on Kurt. She immediately wanted to dismiss that, but for some reason she couldn't comfortably shake the thought from her head.

Once Dola finished her plan, she counted the breaths until it was time for her shift. She reached 3,412.

She grabbed Kurt's food and walked into the room, seemingly unfazed in the eyes of her crew. "Hey, I nearly thought you were going to stand me up." Kurt smiled as he took the bowl from her hands.

"Sorry, the chef had to salvage what he could. Seems some of the food they swiped was no good, so no dinner tonight." Dola spoke casually and waited for what felt like long enough for anyone to move on from the closed door in case anyone suspected her. "Hey," She whispered.

Kurt looked at her gently and for the first time the glare of the light missed his glasses and she could see that they were a honey brown color. "Yeah?" He spoke softly in reply.

"I can't explain too much of what is going to happen without getting sidetracked. I think you trust me, but I need to be sure."

Kurt kept his face calm in spite of the urgency in her voice. "I trust you."

"Completely?" Kurt nodded. "Okay, we got a reply." His face immediately fell. "I'm guessing from your expression that I don't have to explain what was said or what it means?" He nodded again. "Look, besides me, the entire crew unanimously voted to waste you. I had no way of convincing them, but I tried-"

Dola was cut off before she could finish. "It's okay, Mathilde. I appreciate all you have done and I know that you can't just stick your neck out for me. I'm not angry, in fact, thank you for being honest with me."

"Hey, moron, shut up." Dola could hardly believe her ears. Kurt was fine with letting some idiotic wannabe renegades kill him, because he had trashy parents? She didn't know if this made her want to hit or hug him. "You better not be so damn quick to give up, when I'm willing to risk it to save your complacent ass. No one is going to lay a finger on you, okay?" Kurt looked baffled. "Eat your food dammit!" He obliged and she continued. "We are taking shifts watching you and mine is up in a few hours. Later tonight when I come in, I am going to need you listen to everything I say, but right now for the abridged version. When you are out of this room, I need you to move fast and quiet to the engine room. Beside those gears, there is a hollow spot beneath the floorboards. Hide there. Don't move or breathe until I get you, do you understand?"

Kurt began to interject, but Dola barked. "Hey, I wasn't lying when I said no dinner! Finish that." At some point during her speech he had abandoned his food. "If you don't act perfectly normal, then you will have screwed us both. Do you got that?"

"Yes." Kurt wanted to ask several questions, but he trusted her and knew that as it stood, the instructions she had given him were simple enough. Why complicate things?


	5. Ch 5: The Escape?

***A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. This has been a very odd week for me scheduling wise, so I'm going to upload both this and the final chapter together. Hope you enjoy them. Please R &R. Thanks - Nikki**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 5: The Escape**_

After Kurt had finished his food, Dola moved outside the door. Kyle was shuffling through the hallway, when she called out teasingly, "Oh, errand boy. Be a dear and take this back to the kitchen would you?" She waved the bowl. Kyle wanted to tell her to take it herself, but she wasn't supposed to abandon her post and they both knew that.

"So sorry, we have to get rid of the only boyfriend you will ever have."

"I would say the same to you, but you seem like the kind of plucky little lady who knows how to bounce back." She grinned bearing teeth. His mouth gaped like a fish out of water, searching for a retort, but she continued. "Don't worry, darling. It's just one less Wainwright to me; how could that be a bad thing?"

She knew Kyle was remembering how he picked up on her disdain for the well-to-do family. "If you wanted them all dead, why'd you try to save rich boy?" He spoke triumphantly as if he still didn't believe her jumping on the group's bandwagon so soon after trying to save Kurt.

"Because Kyle, I am actually thinking about the crew's well-being. A dead Wainwright might warm my heart, but I still think it is a high price to pay to get out of this mess. I figured if we decided too soon, we might get a little careless. So I played Devil's Advocate so we could assess each option."

She watched the words slowly wrap around Kyle's thick head and soon recognized that he did in fact believe her. Kyle snatched the bowl from her hand and did an about-face in the direction of the kitchen.

* * *

Dola had to fight off her guilt as she joined David in preparing for dinner. She ate quickly and offered to take Kyle his food after everyone else had finished and headed off to bed. She had learned a lot about cooking and the proper application of herbs from Samuel years before. Sam once told her that their father had taken a sedative called belladonna after he had lost their mother to help him sleep at night, as the loneliness had caused him insomnia.

Luckily for Dola, David had his back turned as she applied a small, yet potent amount of the fair sedative to Kyle's dish. The devil on her shoulder said to dump the whole vial, but even if she seriously disliked him, she had to remind herself of her earlier statement of the importance of a human life.

She drudged her way to Kyle, determined to look annoyed while handing him his food. Kyle chuckled from the stool outside the closed door. "Hmm, looks like someone drew the short stick."

"Whatever; just eat your damn food." Before Kyle took a bite, Dola nudged him. "Hey, maybe don't do it where he can see." She nodded towards the window. "He's been told no dinner, so how about some subtlety?"

Kyle nodded, hunched over and turned his back to the small window. Dola made a show of yawning deeply and stretching her arms far above her head. "Well, I guess that means I get to go sleep on my comfy bed. Have fun." She smiled as Kyle yawned back.

Even though Dola went straight to her room, she stayed awake and alert. She simply sat with crossed fingers and hoped that she gave Kyle enough to put him to sleep. It was more than luck, Dola figured, that all the boys went to bed right after eating. After an hour or so had passed, Dola opened her door quietly and tiptoed through the hallway.

The only sound she could hear was a whispered snore that she had learned over the past months to be Kyle's. She silently approached the door to the ship and eased it open without a sound. Dola then turned around and walked in the direction of the snorer. The room closest to Kurt's belonged to her, so she didn't have to worry about being overheard. She gave Kyle a slight shake, just enough to make sure he wouldn't wake up. He continued his soft snore uninterrupted.

The door opened with a small whine and Dola paused to hear anything in reply, but was met with silence. She shut the door behind and was thankful to see that Kurt was up and waiting for her. She spoke as soft as she could manage. "Okay, now everybody seems to be asleep, so here is what is going to happen. I'm going to give you one minute to get to the engine room, got that?" She didn't wait for a reply. "Then I'm going to scream out and say you escaped; if we're lucky everyone will be too disoriented to do anything but run out looking for you."

Kurt nodded and started to move, but Dola grabbed him by the forearm. "There is one more thing. I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything." He smiled.

"Hit me a couple of times as hard as you can."

"I'm sorry?" Kurt looked mortified by the thought.

"Look these boys know me well. I wouldn't let somebody get by me without a fight, so it has to look like it. Just hit me a few times as hard as you can." She braced herself.

"I can't." Dola just glared at him. "Mathilde, I can't do it. I won't hit a woman."

"Are you kidding me right now? You're supposed to be killed in a few hours and you are letting your chivalry get in the way? Kurt, really? Now is not the time to be Mr. Perfect." She practically growled.

"Please, Mathilde." He pleaded. "I can't do it."

"Fine." She sighed. "Some help you are." Without a second thought, Dola punched herself thrice in the face.

"Jesus!" Kurt exclaimed as she began mussing up her hair and smearing some of the blood that was dripping from her nose. The overall look was horrific.

"Always have to rely on myself…" She looked at him and Kurt couldn't look away from some blood that had dripped onto her hair. "You're welcome!"

Kurt went to touch her face. "Are you okay?"

She slapped his hand. "Just peachy, dammit. Stop focusing on me!" She set the stool on the ground and lightly tossed the floor mat eschew. "Go, now! I'll finish up here." Kurt stalled. "60, 59, 58, 57..." Dola began counting down and Kurt turned his back on her and left the room as fast and as quietly as he could. Dola placed her now bloody hand on the floor. "50…" She touched her face for more blood which she smeared into a small center on the stool, so it would look as if he hit her with it; she doubted any of the men would believe he could hit her hard enough to get her bleeding with his bare hands. "34, 33, 32…" She quickly assessed the room and nodded her own approval.

Thirty seconds later, Dola drew in a deep breath, screamed and threw the door open with a loud clang.

Kyle flew off his stool from the sound. "What the hell?" He tried to figure out where the sound was coming from and why. "Dola, what the hell is your problem?" The moment he saw her bloody and panicked face, he froze, shocked by the look of her.

"Shit!" She spit blood that had dripped into her mouth. "He escaped!" She yelled throughout the hall, waking all the men.

"What the hell happened?" Kyle accused.

At just that moment, Thomas was running in their direction. Dola, frenzied and fussy poked her finger at Kyle's chest. "Your worthless ass fell asleep. I went inside to check because I didn't see him." She breathed deeply, frantic. "When the door opened, something hit me in the face and I went down. I think it was the stool." Thomas, Kyle, Ed and David all peered in and were able to confirm her story by the mess the room was in. "I tried to get up, but he hit me again."

She heard Rich speak from the front of the ship, with Kent beside him no doubt. "Tom, the door's open."

"Shit!" Thomas cursed. Dola ran her bloody fingers through her strawberry blonde hair hysterically. The visual effect left Kyle a little hypnotized. "Let's go! He couldn't have got far. We'll catch up to him!" And just like that all the boys ran outside. Dola made an effort to look like she was following close behind, but stopped at the door. It had all gone according to plan.

She hurried to the engine room and grabbed Kurt's shoulders from the floorboard. "Come on, I'm going to need your help." Sure she knew how to pilot an airship, but she had very little experience and needed more than a little assistance.

She hurried to the helm of the ship with Kurt in tow. She started to run passed the front door to the ship until she noticed an upset, and as always smug looking Kyle. "Son of a bitch! I knew it!"

Dola froze and placed her arm in front of Kurt behind her protectively. Kyle stood alone at the door. "I knew you were going to double cross us like this. And all for some stupid rich boy. Traitor!" He spat and lunged for her.

Before Dola had an opportunity to beat the snot out of Kyle, Kurt, from behind her, pushed around her arm and decked Kyle with a crack that actually chilled her spine. Kyle thudded to the ground. Dola bent down and checked that he was still breathing. With little show she began rolling his body down the ramp. Kurt picked him up and called out behind himself. "I got this. You go to the wheel." She nodded though Kurt couldn't see her. Kurt dropped Kyle casually and ran back up the ramp where he made sure to shut and seal the door. "So, the plan?"

"Just to get the hell out of here." She smiled and he patted her shoulder. It didn't take long to get the ship up and running and before The Rogues could even realize they were short two members and a prisoner, Dola and Kurt were long gone with their ship.

* * *

They had been airborne for two hours before Dola's adrenaline finally began to wear off. "That was a pretty nice punch, there."

Kurt laughed and stood up straight, seeming so much more whole now that he was no longer trapped in a small room. "I'm not entirely defenseless, you know."

"I can see that. I'm sorry for ever thinking you were." She said both genuine and playful.

"So, I can take you home or well, just about anywhere else you want to go." Dola spoke looking straight ahead. Kurt didn't have a home anymore and the worst part was that although he knew it might sound cheesy, the closest thing he had to a home was Dola and he knew that he had to stay with her.

He tried to sound casual while quieting the tenderness with which he looked at her. "I don't know; I've gotten quite fond of this ship. It feels like home." Their eyes met. "Mathilde, have you ever fancied the idea of becoming a pirate?" Dola smiled.


	6. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

They were a great team of pirates. When two months or so had passed, they set to seek a revenge they both had felt parching them. They robbed the Wainwrights clean in a spectacular fashion. They snuck in late one night and Kurt slipped his way into their safe, nabbing nearly every cent. He wrote his family a beautiful farewell letter and thanked them for what he saw as an advance for the inheritance due him from his criminal, succubus family.

That night, standing at the threshold of his family home, money in hand and a smile in his soul, Kurt reached down and kissed Dola for the first time.

If Dola had ever questioned her feelings for Kurt, every doubt was wiped from her mind, the moment he held her close and caressed her face. "I ain't going soft." She said looking up and scowled playfully as she squeezed his hand and headed for their ship.

That night was the first time that Dola cried in 13 years. Kurt held her in his arms and brought her to his bed where they laid down. He patted her hair and let her cry until the sobs turned to hiccups. He waited until she was ready to talk. She told him how her brother, Samuel had made her promise to be strong and never cry. Sitting there amongst their jewels, treasure and money, she had realized that this miniscule payback had brought her no real joy, but a reminder that no revenge could repay what had been taken from her and that to the end of her life she really would never see or hear her brothers or father again. And just like that she felt the grief of almost 3 years come crashing down on her, until she began crying all over again. She sobbed herself to sleep in Kurt's arm as he rubbed her back and nuzzled her hair, content to never move for the rest of his life, if it meant relieving even a fraction of her pain.

Dola awoke reborn and unburdened. She had still missed her family more than ever, but now that she had grieved for them, she could finally see herself moving forward and living. Kurt kissed her softly that morning and made her breakfast. When they sat to eat, he held her hand the whole time, afraid that he could lose her at any second to her mourning. An hour later, he saw her genuine smile and knew he didn't need to worry about her.

He proposed to her a month later and they married in the next town after that. They sporadically recruited, one here, one there; all temporary, extra hands in need of help for a month or two.

Once, Kurt asked her why she had risked everything to save him, he jokingly asked if it was his charm or devastatingly good looks. She smiled and told him that even before she knew she loved him, she knew they were kindred spirits, or as she liked to think of it, family. She had denied looking for family, even when she joined up with The Rogues, but she had found it accidentally in him.

Kurt was glad that through it all she remained the tough girl he originally suspected her to be, with a soft spot only for him.

After Dola's first miscarriage during their third year of marriage, she was inconsolable. Kurt was there for her in any way he could be, but he knew Dola well enough to know, that she would never ask for his support even if she wanted it, so he stayed by her side and kissed her hand. After 2 more years had passed, they stopped trying. Dola knew that the best things in her life had come to her by accident when she least expected it, so she hardened her resolve and focused on other things. She told Kurt that she knew that if and when they were meant to have children, they would. He kissed her hand and agreed wholeheartedly.

When Dola was 24 years old, she was shopping alone in a market, while Kurt saw to repairs on their airship, she saw a small boy sitting and crying in an alley. "Nobody likes a crybaby." She said and tossed him an apple.

The little boy who couldn't have been more than 5 years old, looked up at her and thanked her. "So, why are you crying?" She sat on the stoop beside the boy.

He took a bite and told her how he was all alone. His father had left before his mother had him and she had gotten sick a few months before. After she had died, her family refused to take the boy, proof of their daughter's shame and cast him out to the street. Dola patted the boy's back. "You know, I know a man who had a family that wasn't very kind to him either."

The little boy, Charles, he said his name was, met her eyes. "You know, family isn't always something you're born with, sometimes it's something that finds you along the way." She chuckled. "Usually by accident." Charles nodded, pretending to understand. "I actually know somebody who is looking to expand their family. You interested?"

Charles smiled and his tears began to dry. "Come with me." Dola held out her hand and they both headed towards her airship.

Kurt made the three of them dinner. Charles looked at the tall man and said, "Are you the man with the mean family?"

Kurt laughed at that. "She's not that mean." He looked at Dola, who swatted his arm. "Yes, I used to have a very mean family, but now I have a great one. Do you want to be a part of it?"

Charles noticed the way the tall man looked at Dola so softly and he wanted very much to be in such a loving family. He nodded and just like that, he was a son again, only this time he had two parents who loved him very much.

* * *

Charles didn't know how easy it was to get brothers, but from how many he got, so quickly, he believed it was a matter of willpower. By the time Charles was 8; he had two more adopted brothers, each an orphan before and now part of a whole family.

When they boys reached their teen years, they would ask their father of how he met their mother. He would sit the ever-growing number of sons down and tell them the story of a valiant and kind thief and how she crossed paths with a rugged, wealthy and charming young man. He often said that after all these years, she still kept him hostage. When Charles was 15, he realized that his father didn't mean literally and he felt both silly and embarrassed.

Dola gave all the boys an opportunity to choose to be pirates. She never wanted to force a path on her sons, but they all followed her gladly. They only really robbed from the rich and the money fed their mouths so they saw no harm in what they did. The boys knew their mother well and could sense her obsession when she had heard rumors of a magic and priceless crystal.

Before any job, Dola would corral her boys to discuss the game plan. After every detail was given and everybody was clear on their role, Dola would pat her boys on the back. "I love you boys, now make me proud." She would clear her throat and command her volume. "And mother or not, for the love of God, call me Captain."

* * *

 ***A/N - I hope this was a fun story to read. I personally loved writing it. I hope this was received as what I consider an elaboration on a favorite character. Granted I know this is probably nothing close to what would be considered canon for this series. That being said, I hope this was ultimately enjoyed and served as a decent, short read. Please R &R, it means a lot. Thanks -Nikki  
**


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